Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven #1) by J.R. Ward

He put out a twenty dollar bill. “Will this cover it?”

“See? This is my point. If you were a regular smoker, you’d know how much they are. And no, it won’t.”

He took out another twenty. “This will cover it, then.”

Susan stared across the counter at him. “And if you were starting out, you’d sneak them from someone else.”

But at least she took his cash and gave him the cigarettes.

Daniel left before she could hand him his change.



Back at the WSP, Lydia gave the wolf a final stroke down his back and then she told him that she’d return at five to fix him dinner and make sure he was okay—as if he spoke English. Yet as she was reclosing the door, she met his eyes … and he knew. He knew she was not leaving him forever.

Then again, wolves were like that.

“Soon,” she promised. “You’ll be back out there very soon.”

Shutting things up tight, she locked the knob—

“Is it true, then?” a quiet voice said.

Lydia closed her eyes for a moment. Then she turned around to Candy. The older woman looked every bit her age, her face drooping, her hands worrying the collar of her button-down. Then the knit cuff of her sweater.

“Yes,” Lydia answered. “He’s gone.”

Candy’s composure was immediate, a mask of reserve settling over her features. Yet it was impossible not to reach out and put a hand on that shoulder. But what could Lydia say to make any part of it better?

She cleared her own throat. “I just …”

Where could she start? With what happened at the chain-link fence? Or maybe what it was like to go into that study and see Rick’s running shoes sticking out behind that desk.

How about the gunpowder smell? The blood?

“I don’t know what to say,” she sighed with defeat.

“He was a good vet,” Candy said.

“That’s just what I was telling the wolf.”

Candy broke away and went to the Plexiglas window to look into the pen. “Is he going to live?”

“Yes. Thanks to Rick.”

“I saw you when you were in there with him. I was out on the porch—” Candy jerked back. “Guess he doesn’t like all humans, huh.”

The snarl that permeated through the door was a low warning.

“He just doesn’t know you.” Lydia drew the woman away. “I’m going to release him tomorrow morning.”

“How?”

“I’m going to tranquilize him. And then take him out into the preserve on the back of the four-wheeler.”

Candy’s brows dropped. “How much does he weigh?”

“Around two hundred pounds. He’s bigger than your average gray wolf.”

“And you can lift that kind of dead weight?”

No, Lydia thought.

“I’ll take care of that somehow,” she said.

“Maybe you can ask Daniel to help.”

“Sure—”

“How are we going to get by?” Candy demanded. “I guess the larger question is, how much longer do you think we’re going on? I don’t mean to be practical, but I have bills to pay. I need to … find another job.”

Lydia shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Candy rubbed her short hair, the bright blond spikes smoothing out under the friction. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t be bringing this up so soon after … well, you know—”

“No, it’s okay. Things only stop for the dead, not the living. We need to figure it all out.”

“Where the hell is Peter Wynne?”

“I don’t know. And that’s the truth.”

Candy went over to the pile of mail and started going through the bills. “Well, just so you know, I’ll stay for however long I have a check.” The woman glanced around the clinic area. “And also, I really liked Rick. He was a good man. I don’t know why I feel the need to say that out loud, but I do.”

“I couldn’t agree more. He was … a very good man.”

“But Peter?” Candy’s stare grew hard. “I wouldn’t give you a plug nickel for that piece of shit.”

They both fell silent for a moment.

Then Lydia said abruptly, “Can I ask you for a favor? I need to borrow your car.”





ON THE WAY back from his nicotine purchase, Daniel went past the WSP’s driveway. As he continued on, the turnoff he was looking for was slow in coming—or maybe he just wasn’t sure what the fuck he was doing and that made everything seem fuzzy and sluggish.

Farlan’s Lane was right where they’d left it, and he didn’t cut his speed much as he angled in and picked the right of the two dirt tracks. Heading deep into the trees, he went up to where they’d towed Lydia’s car from, with Paul of Paul’s Garage having done the drag duty.

You had to wonder whether the guy was going to mention to anybody that shit had just been yanked inside the engine. Probably not. Paul seemed like the live and let live kind.

Of course, if he were asked? Who knew.

Killing the engine, Daniel swung a leg free and took the key with him. As he strode forward, he took one of the packs of Marlboros out. The efficiency with which he stripped the plastic proved that a strong past habit could override the “perishable skill” part of almost anything. And as he popped the top and took out one of the filter-first soldiers, he decided that this wagon fall-off was just a temporary thing.